


schrödinger's beautiful boy

by lecornergirl



Series: forever just like this [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Library, Alternate Universe - Muggle, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-21
Updated: 2018-04-21
Packaged: 2019-04-25 15:23:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14381475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lecornergirl/pseuds/lecornergirl
Summary: But he didn’t say anything, because Schrödinger’s beautiful boy was the best kind of beautiful boy. If he didn’t ask, Moony was simultaneously interested and not interested, and that was better by far than definitely not interested.//100% inspired by this tweet: "good news: the hot librarian noticed mebad news: it’s because i brought mozzarella sticks to the library and that’s not allowed"





	schrödinger's beautiful boy

**Author's Note:**

> i saw this tweet (https://twitter.com/jamieloftusHELP/status/982718739509493760) and it screamed wolfstar. this is my first time writing for this ship but here we are

If you’d told Sirius a few months ago that he was going to start spending all his free time in the university library, he’d have laughed in your face.

Well, ‘all his free time’ was a little misleading. Specifically, Sirius could be found patronising the library on Monday and Wednesday afternoons, Tuesday and Thursday nights, and Saturday mornings through late afternoons.

This, of course, had nothing to do with the work schedule of the tall boy who dressed like he’d been told to embody every librarian cliché ever written while also being the most beautiful person Sirius had ever seen, and who just happened to work the front desk. Which just happened to be perfectly situated to be viewed from Sirius’s favourite table. Or so he told James.

James, of course, was beside himself with laughter when he found out, but solemnly swore to only sometimes visit Sirius at the library, and to _try_ not to make a fool out of him in front of the librarian, whom Sirius had taken to calling Moony after catching a glimpse of a crescent moon tattoo on his left wrist.

Sirius took the mocking graciously, so long as James shut up whenever Moony was within hearing distance. There had been one close call—one time when Sirius had to physically shut him up with a hand over his mouth when Moony was shelving books near their table and James tried to call out to him—but James mostly left Sirius to his pining. It happened every now and then, and James was used to the cycle: Sirius met someone, described him as life-changingly beautiful, and chickened out of actually talking to him until circumstances forced him to, which was when he usually found out that the beautiful boy had an ugly personality. A few had turned into actual relationships, but for various reasons they never lasted long. James knew his role: listen to Sirius pining in the living room of their shared flat, most often with alcohol, and mock him as much as possible to remind him that despite what happens with beautiful boys, life goes on.

Sirius had not yet spoken to Moony, but this time was different. He could feel it. Sometimes, when he looked up from what he was (most often fake-) studying, he thought he caught Moony looking away in a hurry, as if he’d been staring at him. When he slipped through the shelves to the bathroom—in his (usually mismatched and brightly patterned) socks, because Sirius didn’t believe in wearing shoes inside any more than he absolutely had to—he could swear Moony’s gaze followed him. But he didn’t say anything, because Schrödinger’s beautiful boy was the best kind of beautiful boy. If he didn’t ask, Moony was simultaneously interested and not interested, and that was better by far than definitely not interested. This time seemed different, but hoping for definitely interested seemed like more risk than it was worth.

Which was why he was so unprepared for Moony to approach _him_ one Wednesday afternoon, when he was pretending to work on an essay that wasn’t due in for another week. He almost didn’t notice him at first, until Moony cleared his throat.

“Erm. Hi.” he was so tall that Sirius, sitting in what he had until then considered a chair of completely normal height, had to crane his neck to look up at him.

Moony’s approach took him so by surprise that he couldn’t formulate a response, but at least the angle had him looking up through his lashes, one of his better sides. Which was really quite fortunate for someone who barely reached average height.

“Listen, I’m sorry to disturb you,” Moony continued, “you look like you’re in the zone—” at this, Sirius smirked, because the only zone he was in was the Moony Appreciation Zone “—but you’re really not supposed to bring hot food into the library.” He gestured at the takeout carton half full of mozzarella sticks next to Sirius’s laptop.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Sirius said, his capacity for speech finally returned. “Should I be sharing with the class?” He gestured at the carton in the universal gesture for ‘please, have one’. “Also, to be honest with you, I really don’t think they can be considered hot food anymore.”

Moony cracked a smile at that. “Either way, I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to finish them outside.”

“Want to come help me?” Sirius offered before he could stop himself, and watched about seven different expressions flit across Moony’s face before it settled back on professionalism. 

“I wish I could, but my boss, erm, isn’t exactly fond of me, and I don’t think she’d be happy with me going outside in the middle of my shift. I can keep an eye on your stuff, though, if you want?” and before Sirius had time to answer, Moony stole a mozzarella stick, winked—actually fucking _winked_ —and went back to the desk. Sirius grabbed his phone and what remains of the mozzarella sticks, going outside and leaning against the wall next to the entrance to the library. It was just him and some smokers, and at any other moment in time he’d have laughed at it, all of them banned from indulging inside. 

As it was, however, he texted James.

_good news: the hot librarian noticed me. bad news: it’s because i brought mozzarella sticks to the library and that’s not allowed._

He knew James had rugby practice and wouldn’t text back for a while, so he did the only other thing he can think of, which was to finish the mozzarella sticks, toss the empty carton, and go back to pretending to work on his essay. When he returned to his table, Moony looked up from whatever he’s doing at the front desk, grinned at him, and proceeded to ignore him for the rest of his shift.

On the table next to his laptop, Sirius’s phone buzzed with a text from James.

_and??????????_

He was about to reply when Moony walked up to his table for the second time that day, bag in hand and apparently done with his shift.

“Sorry about earlier,” he said with a grin. “I wasn’t kidding, my boss really is a piece of work.” 

“Happens to the best of us,” Sirius laughed, despite never having worked a day in his life. He didn’t really know where he was going with this. “Are you, er, heading out?”

“No, actually, I’ve just decided to carry my bag around at work in case I suddenly need anything,” Moony deadpanned, and Sirius laughed.

“Right. Of course. I just meant—”

“I’m going towards town, which way are you going?” Moony asked before he could make more of a fool out of himself, and that’s how he found himself walking home with the hot librarian.

           

 

“So I realised I don’t actually know your name,” Sirius said as they walked down the high street, and Moony laughed just as he continued with “I’m Sirius,” which just made him laugh even more.

“Is it that serious?” he asked, and Sirius scowled.

“No, I mean, that’s my name,” he said, and Moony laughed harder. “Sirius, like the star. My parents were… strange.”

“I’m sorry, but did you practice that? Like, do you practice when exactly to come in with the whole 'I'm Sirius' bit?” Moony asked. “Or do you just have naturally perfect comedic timing?”

Sirius didn’t answer, just levelled Moony with a Look. The look would have made James back off; Moony didn’t know that, but he seemed to get it anyway.

“Sorry, you must get a lot of shit with a name like that.” Sirius nodded, opened his mouth to explain James—as if the depth of James and his mockery could be explained—but Moony continued. “I kind of get it, though—my name is Remus Lupin. My parents literally named me Wolf McWolf.”

Sirius burst out laughing, and it was easy, from there, to descend into teasing and light-hearted conversation for the rest of the walk. When Moony—Remus—turned onto a side street to go home, Sirius pulled out his phone and replied to James.

_and his name is remus_

Things changed after that day as much as they remained the same. Sirius still pined, and he still complained to James about it, but now he had more substance to complain about, because Remus started making a habit of stopping by his table whenever he needed a break or generally got bored. Which seemed to happen suspiciously often, but as long as he still had Schrödinger’s beautiful boy, Sirius wasn’t going to question it. He didn’t have Remus, but he didn’t not have him either, and that was good enough for now.

Until one day, when Remus came to his table as usual, but sat in the chair opposite him instead of just perching on the table like he normally did. Sirius could tell he was working up to saying something, but had no idea what it was going to be, until Remus finally opened his mouth.

“So listen, are you ever going to ask me out?”           

Sirius was dumbfounded, but managed to find words from somewhere deep within. “Are you ever going to ask _me_ out?”

Remus grinned. “One could argue that I just did.”

“You asked something, sure, but you didn’t ask me out.”

“Hey, Sirius?” Remus asked, and his gaze was fond. “Want to go get mozzarella sticks with me when I get off work?”

This time, it was Sirius who winked. “It’s a date.”

  

 

Some months later, Remus is about to fall asleep, limbs tangled with Sirius. “’Night, Pads,” he murmurs, already drifting off when Sirius pokes him in the side.

“What did you say?”

Remus blinks, fighting off sleep. “I said good night?”

“You called me Pads,” Sirius says, less accusing and more confused. Remus flushes.

“I, er. I used to call you that in my head before I knew your name. It was Padfoot, at first, because of your stupid mismatched socks.”

“It’s too much effort to keep track of pairs of socks when you’re doing laundry!” Sirius protests automatically, but he’s smiling. “’Night, Moony,” he says, kissing the moon tattoo on Remus’s wrist.

           


End file.
